The Songbook for a Swede and a Spaniard
by ramosewritings
Summary: Because music spanning the centuries is a personal link of gold for these two countries. SvEsp, friendship.


SvEsp, friendship.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, only the story. All facts and fictional characters are to the owners themselves and such.

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**The Songbook for a Swede and a Spaniard**

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December 2009.

Antonio could've sworn he was back in the sixteenth century upon hearing these instruments and these voices, and on seeing these people decked in old clothing that nowadays would be used as costumes. A lover of the arts and music, this was quite a treat Berwald had presented him. It was a personal invite after all, an invite that didn't even need asking, but only the giving of a date and place. For fourteen years they had met and gone together at this concert by the Ensemble Villancico who performed music composed by a duke centuries back in Renaissance Spain. They had missed a few meets, though, brought about by their own busy schedules but fortunately, Antonio was able to go through this time. He had made his ways earlier on to Sweden without his officials, as this was still a meeting of the handover of the Union seat. But sometimes, a nation wants to be free, even for just a little while, to hang out with a friend— a friend he didn't get to see very often anymore.

"Is it still nostalgic to you?" The Swede asked, giving the slightest glance over to his right side where Antonio sat in pleasant silence. It was easy to see he was enjoying it, even though this kind of music is less appreciated or even recognized in modern days. But Berwald knew Antonio enough to know that he liked it still.

Opening his eyes, Antonio's smile widened a little and he turned to his side to look at Berwald. "_Sí_. No matter how many times I listen to this, it will always be nostalgic." A light laugh came from him, and he brought his curled index finger up to his lips, as if trying to silence himself from making a loud noise in a formal gathering.

Berwald was lightly amused. The other was very controlled (or at least he tried nicely in doing so) when it came to knowing his place and necessary actions. Not that he needed to silence himself much. He hardly made any noise. Berwald always found it admirable how he could be both cheerful and serious at the right times.

"I'll still never understand how that collection came to us." He commented. It was true. No one actually knew how Duke Ferdinand's songbook arrived in Sweden, and Berwald during that time was far too busy to have thought more about it or ask the deliverers. It was merely a tiny regret he had. It wasn't of too much importance— heck not even Antonio seemed frazzled about it— but curiosity did place itself still in the backs of the minds several centuries old.

"Neither will I."

The song gradually died down and the performers took their bows, to which an equal, if not more, applaud greeted them back. Beautiful men and women… _Only paler_, Antonio added with an inward chuckle.

The audience remained for an encore, but the Spaniard excused himself. Berwald followed suit towards the entrance of the concert hall. The evening was rather young, but one would think it was already late. Winter was nearing its peak.

"Don't want to hear more?" He asked.

Antonio straightened himself out and tugged on his black formal coat. The northern climate was still something he had to get used to.

"I'm sure I've heard enough," Was his reply, the grin never leaving his face. "And I'm sure I'll hear more in the following years, if Europe will be nice to not give me too much of a workload."

Berwald nodded and stood beside him. "Maybe fate'll be nice to you with that attitude."

"Maybe." He repeated. "I've been faring still whatever happens, you know? So I can count on that. Maybe? Definitely? Choose your pick on the word."

And all Berwald could wonder was when Antonio chose to play with his words. It was still lightly entertaining.

For a few moments they stood there in silence, the Swede thinking and the Spaniard reminiscing.

"Vodka?" The former offered.

A softer smile played on the latter's lips. "The best you have?"

"I never offer any less."

Antonio nodded and went over to pat at Berwald's shoulder. "And you know I never turn down a good drink with a good friend."

And even in the smallest of ways, with music and vodka to accompany them, December seemed warmer now.

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A/N:

I got the idea when I read about the little history fact mentioned in the fic. There aren't much records about it, but looking up "The Songbook of the Duke of Calabria" on YouTube will garner a video about it with information in the description.

I hope you guys enjoyed it!


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